


to think that we could stay the same

by thephanlock



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Mitski song, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Dancing, friends to strangers to lovers, two slow dancers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephanlock/pseuds/thephanlock
Summary: There’s nothing keeping Shane in LA, not anymore."We're just two slow dancers, last ones out."
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	to think that we could stay the same

**Author's Note:**

> based on 'two slow dancers' by mitski <3

_ “It would be a hundred times easier _

_ If we were young again _

_ But as it is, and it is _

_ We're just two slow dancers, last ones out _

_ We're two slow dancers, last ones out.” _

_ \- Two Slow Dancers, Mitski _

As the sun lays its claim on his back, probably turning his skin a shade somewhere between pink and crimson, not for the first time, Shane wonders why he still lives in LA. 

For years, it’s felt like he’s been dormant, sleepwalking, whilst the world rushes by around him. His girlfriend leaving him, trying to chase her dreams as they drove her to other states, whilst Shane tried to keep up, dragging along like dead weight. Watcher folding, all in search of different things, Steven following the foodie route and joining another channel, while Ryan pursued a career in television after selling a show to a major network. They had a good run.

And now, it’s been years since he’s spoken to any of them. He lost count of the specifics after two New Years without their well wishes.

Truth is, Shane would’ve stayed at Watcher for the rest of his life. He would’ve been happy to keep making his silly puppets. To eat Steven’s questionable food. To get drunker than a teenager with a key to their parent’s alcohol cabinet and read stupid stories. To wake up every morning, drive to the office and live the same day over and over again. He didn’t want anything more.

He would’ve been happy to do that for the rest of his life.

There’s nothing keeping Shane in LA, not anymore. 

And yet, he’s continued to rent the same apartment that he’s had for as long as he can remember. With its too off-white to be considered white walls. And its water that runs hot and cold as it pleases, mainly when he’s trying to shower. And its kitchen so claustrophobic that he always bangs his hips and knees on the cabinets whenever he tries to cook.

He could live anywhere but he keeps living here, where rent is triple the price and the floor plan is a quarter of the size. Because part of him is holding out hope that he won’t have to close that chapter just yet. Moving away would be like throwing the book in the trash without knowing how it ends.

So he makes his money consulting online businesses and editing videos for content creators. He takes some history classes, debates going for a degree to become a history teacher but can’t quite pull the trigger. He keeps living his life on the same page, refusing to turn to the next one and hoping, if he doesn’t move on, he can flick back to the start of the chapter.

The sun is starting to set by now but Shane can feel the damage is done, the sunburn along the nape of his neck already itching. He tugs on the collar of his shirt, loosening it a little and keeps walking. 

He hadn’t heard from Steven for three years, maybe more. Still, Shane couldn’t find the heart to delete his number, even though they’re both probably different people by now. But just last week, Shane’s phone pinged with a text, an invitation to a reunion at a local bar, asking if Shane was still in town. 

As if he ever left. 

He’s a little late, as he often is, to avoid the awkwardness of too few people with too little in common. When he turns the corner, he sees cars as far as his eyesight allows and smiles, feeling glad that he’s not among the first to arrive.

There’s a tiny voice in the back of his mind, begging him to turn back and never speak a word of tonight ever again. It’s not like he bumps into Steven or Ryan often, he wouldn’t have to make excuses, he could just leave and save himself the embarrassment of explaining that his life was derailed years ago and he’s been unable to set himself back on the right track.

But he knows he would always wonder, so Shane steps inside.

It takes him a minute to find where he’s going, to spot the table in the corner with a bunch of familiar but unfamiliar faces. 

Shane’s surprised to find that almost everyone is there, every employee, every colleague he can remember. It’s like the dam breaks, memories flooding every corner of his brain until it’s too much, until it doesn’t feel like reminiscing anymore. Until it feels a little too close to drowning. 

Until he’s gasping for air but inhales nothing but water.

* * *

_ “You need to tell him, Shane.” Steven had said, one night over company drinks whilst Ryan had ducked into the bathroom. Choking on air, Shane sputtered, eyes almost comically wide as he glanced across at Steven. _

_ “What?” He coughed and took a sip of his drink, some god-awful cocktail that Ryan had dared him to order. It burned on the way down and left a bitter taste in his mouth. The bartender definitely got the proportions wrong but Shane drank it anyway and tried not to wince.  _

_ “You can’t just look at him like that and not tell him,” Steven chuckled, like it was the most obvious piece of information, like everyone knew it. Except Shane, apparently. _

_ “Like what?” Shane said, not meaning to play dumb. He genuinely had no idea what Steven was talking about. Not at the time. Maybe it was the excess alcohol impairing his thoughts, maybe he was just that clueless. _

_ “Like, like,” Steven waved his arms, trying to gesture something but falling short. It felt like trying to decipher a dead language, trying to make sense of the senseless. “You know, like he’s everything. _

_ “Okay, bud. I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Shane deflected, as he’d been doing his entire life.  _

_ “He’s a good guy, I’m sure Watcher will be fine. Just tell him.” Steven rushed his words out, glancing over Shane’s shoulder as Ryan made his way back to the table. He slid into the booth beside Shane, misjudging the distance slightly and bumping into him, an apology falling from his lips. _

_ And Shane had smiled at Steven like he was a crazy person, as though his words weren’t etched into his brain, ready for inspection later that night when he made it to bed, alone and unsleeping.  _

* * *

_ “You need to talk to me, you can’t just go radio silent before a shoot when we need to plan shit out.” Ryan had said, one evening after the rest of the office had gone home, flicking the domino that triggered the fall out. He’d been right, as he often was, but it was one argument and Shane couldn’t let himself back down.  _

_ “Well, maybe we shouldn’t leave planning until the day before.” Shane said, refusing to raise his voice, even now. It wasn’t in his nature to shout, instead he acted like it was nothing, as though it was all some big joke, as though it didn’t affect him at all.  _

_ And that only made things worse. _

_ “Well, maybe we wouldn’t have to if you could stand talking to me for more than ten seconds!” Ryan shouted, forgetting himself for a moment before stopping and taking a deep breath. It amazed Shane how quickly he was able to regain his composure. _

_ “I can talk to you, I’m talking to you now.” Shane said, voice even and expression neutral. They never fought. Over anything. Ever. In all the years they’d known each other, Shane can only remember one little argument in a hotel, after Ryan got a little too spooked after Shane went a little too far at location. But that was years ago.  _

_ “Yeah, this is the longest we’ve talked in weeks, Shane. We’re supposed to be running a company together and you can’t even look at me.” Ryan sighed, furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s going on?” He asked and he’d sounded so concerned that, for a moment, Shane had debated coming clean. _

What’s the worst that could happen?  _ He thought, before his brain supplied him with a thousand worst-case scenarios that taped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t tell Ryan, not for as long as he could help it. It would only make things worse than they already were. He was certain of it. _

_ “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” Shane smiled but the action didn’t meet his eyes. Safe to say, Ryan wasn’t convinced. _

_ “Shane,” He pressed but Shane remained stubborn and tightlipped.  _

_ “I should’ve talked to you. You were right.” Shane admitted. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and went to leave the office. But Ryan stepped in front of him, blocking his exit. _

_ “Shane, we have to--” _

_ “Just drop it.” Shane interrupted, still cool and collected, even though he felt a little like a cornered animal. He could feel the words on his tongue, three little syllables that would be all too easy to say, and he had to leave before he said them. _

_ “Shane.” Ryan’s voice was urgent, persistent. But Shane just stepped to the side and walked away. _

_ “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He shouted over his shoulder, the door to the office closing behind him. _

* * *

Things hadn’t been the same after that.

It just spiralled, even now Shane’s not sure exactly how. He tells himself that they all just wanted different things, that Ryan was always heading for television and film and Steven was heading wherever his heart took him. He tells himself that he couldn’t have changed a thing.

But some nights, when the blame falls too heavily on his shoulders, he knows he’s at least partly at fault. If he’d talked to Ryan, explained himself, maybe things would be different. If he’d tried to treat Ryan like a normal person, instead of running away and folding in on himself at the first sign of confrontation, at the first sign that Steven was right.

Making his way to the table, Shane tries to push the memories away, to swallow down any emotions that threaten to crawl their way up his throat. It’s been years. Everyone will be over it by now, Shane should be over it by now. He swears he is.

The years have been kind to Ryan, who must be in his late thirties if Shane’s math serves him well. His hair is a little shorter than Shane remembers but still just as curly, different but somehow the same. So many things about him have changed and Shane finds himself making a list in his head, noting all the little things he wasn’t around to notice. 

But the one thing that hasn’t changed is Ryan’s smile. The way he laughs like it’s been pulled out of him, like he’s always caught off guard by it. He laughs easily and wholly, with his whole body, warm and as though he can’t help it. It’s infectious.

And Shane hadn’t realised how much he missed it, missed  _ him  _ until now.

He should’ve called. Or dropped him a text, at the very least. Why didn’t he call? Every reason, every excuse sounds pathetic now that he’s here, now that Ryan’s barely a few strides away.

Steven is the first one to spot him, waving excitedly with a big smile on his face. Suddenly, every anxiety he had dissipates, replaced by relief. How could he have been nervous? These are the people who knew him better than anyone else, the people he spent the majority of his twenties and thirties with. 

“Shane! Glad you could make it!” Steven says and the words sound so sincere that Shane immediately feels at ease. He claps a hand on Steven’s shoulder with a smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Shane says, eyes flitting across to Ryan before he even realises. But Ryan’s already looking at him and he smiles, a small, private smile. For a minute, Shane wonders whether Ryan’s forgotten about how things ended, whether it’s all water under the bridge now. He can only hope as much.

Even with all the courage it took for him to walk into the building, it still takes a few drinks and just as many shots before he can touch the dancefloor. The bar is packed, as it often is on a weekend in Los Angeles, and there is so little space on the dancefloor that people are barely dancing, more swaying in place.

Shane only recognises half the songs they play, mostly because they’re throwback hits, but he still dances and chats with former Watcher staff. He’s been trying to follow everyone’s lives on social media - he refuses to call it stalking - but social media only shows so much. He’s got a lot of catching up to do.

He gets so swept up in conversation that he doesn’t even realise Ryan’s behind him, until there’s a tap on his shoulder.

“Wanna dance?” Ryan says, as though Shane isn’t already dancing. But Shane takes the bait anyway.

“You sure you can handle it, Bergara?” He jokes, wiggling his arms in a move that is something close to dancing but definitely not dancing.

“I’ve seen your moves, Madej, you have two. Car sales inflatable and the robot. I think I’ll be fine.” Ryan chuckles, smiling wide and Shane almost forgets to be a part of the conversation.

“Overconfident for someone who spends most of the songs doing this,” Shane counters, mimicking and overexaggerating the moves of a frat guy, even though Ryan’s long since outgrown that persona. He pumps his fist in the air and steps from side to side.

“Please never do that again.” Ryan pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, looking nothing short of disappointed. Naturally, Shane does the move again. 

He should be surprised by how easy they’ve fallen back into step, as though nothing ever changed. But then again, everything with Ryan has always been easy. He could have talked to him for hours, maybe even days, back then without running into a roadblock and things getting awkward. 

Dancing and bantering back and forth is easy, it’s what they’ve always done. But after five or six songs, when the upbeat songs transition to slow ballads, it feels like they’re reaching a precipice, like they’re dancing around something important and it can’t be avoided anymore. 

“What happened?” Ryan says, eventually. And Shane isn’t shocked by the turn in conversation, he’s more shocked that it took so long to get there. That the curiosity hadn’t eaten them both alive before they finally talked about it. “To us, I mean. I’ve been trying to figure it out for years but I don't get it. We were fine, what changed?”

“I don’t know,” Shane says. He’s so used to deflecting and brushing things off, it’s become second nature to avoid confrontation. Even now, he can’t give Ryan a straight answer.

“Shane.” Ryan sighs, because doesn’t he at least deserve an explanation? After years as business partners and even longer as friends?

“I saw you differently.” Shane admits. The wording’s clunky and immediately, he wishes he could rephrase it but it was the first thing he could think to say. He hadn’t expected to bare his soul when setting out this evening. 

“What?” Ryan’s face contorts in confusion. Of all the times to tell him, Shane didn’t think he’d be confessing whilst in the middle of a crowded dance floor, swaying to some shitty ballad that he doesn’t even recognise, years after they so much as spoke. But still, Ryan deserves an explanation, if nothing else.

“I loved you. More than I should’ve, more than I was allowed to. And you had a girlfriend and we were best friends and we ran a fucking  _ company  _ together. It wasn’t fair on you, so I never said anything but I was in love with you.” Shane rambles. He rushes to get the words out through fear that, once he stops, he’ll hesitate and doubt every word he goes to say. He knows, if he shuts up, he might never say anything.

There’s a pause and for a second, Ryan looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Shane feels his heart plummet to his feet. Any attempts at dancing have long since been abandoned, replaced by barely stepping side to side, distracted by their conversation.

“I thought you hated me. I thought I’d done  _ something _ to make you hate me.” Is all Ryan says and Shane’s heart shatters. All this time, he thought he’d been the only one hurting, the only one missing something, the only one triple guessing every single move he made all those years ago. He always wanted to be there for Ryan whenever he was hurting, he never thought he’d be the cause of it.

“No, I couldn’t hate you. Ever.” Shane clarifies, stepping a little closer so he doesn’t need to shout over the music. There’s an intensity behind it that surprises even himself, latching onto his words without him realising.

“You should’ve talked to me,” Ryan says, eyebrows furrowed. And god, Shane’s reminded of every year they spent apart, reflected by a small change in every part of Ryan’s face. It’s been too long. He shouldn’t have let it go on this long. 

“It wouldn’t have made any difference.” Shane says, suddenly wondering whether he should’ve come at all. Walking away is going to hurt a thousand times more now, now that he’s seen Ryan’s face, now that he’s unearthed all the unspoken like he was digging his own grave. 

But of course, when it comes to Ryan Bergara, Shane never did have the sense for self-preservation.

“It would’ve, you don’t know that, I,” Ryan rambles. He shakes his head and sighs, Shane tries not to watch his chest rise and fall as he does so. “I didn’t even know you were an option. God.”

“What do you mean?” Shane asks, knowing that trying to decipher the code that Ryan’s speaking is pointless. 

“I felt it back at Buzzfeed but we were just kids. And you were straight. And you never seemed interested. And  _ you  _ had a girlfriend.” Ryan smiles but the gesture is sad, as though he’s reminiscing on times he could never relive. “I loved you back then, I think I still loved you at Watcher.”

“I,” Shane stutters and tries to pull a sentence together, but falls short. His brain has all but shut down. It probably noticed Shane was sinking and jumped ship to somewhere else. “I had no idea.”

Shane doesn’t get his hopes up, he squashes them before they can flourish. They’re different people now, they’ve grown and aged and done so apart. That door is closed. 

“Yeah, because you didn’t fucking talk to me about it.” Ryan says but there’s no heat behind his words, no anger. Instead, he sounds like he’s stating a fact, something Shane should already know. As if Shane doesn’t tell himself the same thing constantly. 

“You didn’t talk to me about it either!” Shane counters. 

“I flirted with you  _ constantly,  _ Shane. It was embarrassing.” Ryan laughs, the sound humourless and empty. as though he’s trying to laugh at himself but doesn’t quite find it funny. 

A thousand instances pull to the forefront of Shane’s mind. Stupid jokes that only Ryan would find funny. Wide smiles shared like two children. Fingertips lingering on the small of his back. Dinner invitations and movie nights on Shane’s couch. Facetimes in the early hours of the morning when one of them couldn’t sleep. A coffee placed on his desk, unasked for but appreciated.

A thousand instances he missed because he hadn’t been looking.

“Steven told me to tell you,” Ryan admits, tone lighter and features schooled. 

“Same here. What can I say? The dude has eyes.” Shane chuckles at the memory, realising Steven knew all along, knowing that he was meddling on purpose, Steven knew it would’ve ended up fine. He wonders how obvious they were, whether everyone in the office knew, whether his family knew.

He settles on ‘probably.’

Silence settles between them, all the words that Shane had been wanting to say finally spoken. He takes a moment to appreciate the music, some old song by a band that’s irrelevant by now with too much acoustic guitar, just how Shane likes it.

Only when his fingertips bump into Ryan’s does Shane realise just how close they are. Bodies around them must have closed in, forcing them closer together as though they’ve gravitated towards one another. 

It’s almost too easy to place one hand on the small of Ryan’s back.

He looks at Ryan, an unvoiced question, an ‘is this okay?’ 

Hands find themselves on Shane’s shoulders, arms resting against his own and Shane takes that as a ‘yes.’

“I saw your show by the way, it was great.” Shane says, after a song or two of swaying, once the dust feels as though it’s settled and the air is cleared. Ryan smiles.

“Thanks, man.” He says and Shane tries not to think about how it feels as though two holes are being burned into each of his shoulders, the handprints that will be left behind.

“What are you up to now?” Shane asks. There’s no point pretending as though he hasn’t been following his social media since they last spoke. He knew Ryan’s show was wrongfully cancelled after a season, as most shows are in Hollywood. He knew Ryan had been working on scripts and projects.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about starting this company back up,” Ryan says, a knowing smile on his face. 

“Hmm, which company would this be?” Shane plays coy, a pondering expression on his face, even though his hopes are building. 

“It was called Watcher, I don’t know if you heard of it,” Ryan says, going along with the bit just as he always did, batting the metaphorical ball back into Shane’s court. 

Over everything, it’s this that he’s missed most. Of course, he missed the company and the office and the shoots, but more than anything else, he missed his best friend.

“You know, I think I did. Those were the weird guys with the puppets, right? I only heard bad things.” Shane teases. He pulls a face, as though the mere mention of Watcher and their content is enough to leave him displeased.

“I still have beef with the blue man, don’t get me started, man.” Ryan shakes his head, a fondness to his smile that Shane knows is mirrored on his own face. 

“Oh, he still has beef with you too. I bet he’s been practising his jabs just so he can beat you up next time you say his history points are bullshit.” Shane says. It’s only once the words have left his mouth does he realise what he said. 

He said ‘next time.’

“Would you, you know,” Ryan starts, looking away from Shane for a moment, just over his shoulder. As though he’s nervous, as though Shane would ever say anything but yes, as though Shane could ever say no to Ryan. “Would you be interested in coming back?”

Shane can almost see the elephant sitting in the corner of the room. Years ago, Shane wouldn’t have had the courage to speak them, too scared of the answer. But now, after so long spent wondering what would have happened if he’d just sucked it up and confessed, he forces himself to say it.

“Just to be completely open,” Shane forces himself to look Ryan in the eyes as he says it, so he can read into every little reaction. “I’m never going to not love you.”

“That’s okay, we can make that work.” Ryan replies, cool as a cucumber. “I mean, if you want to.” How quickly he backtracks, panicking and unsure, is enough to give anyone whiplash.

“Bold, Bergara. I’ll give you that. But okay.” Shane lets out a breathy laugh, more relieved than anything else. He’d expected Ryan to be taken, maybe engaged or even married. And if not, definitely over any feelings he had for Shane. It’s a surprise, but a nice one.

“Okay? Okay as in?”

“Okay as in obviously I’ll come back. And how about we start with dinner, tomorrow night?” Shane says, gaze flickering across Ryan’s face. His heart feels lighter than it did at the start of the evening, knowing that all of his burned bridges weren’t beyond repair, that Ryan will become a staple in his life again.

“Yeah, that would work for me.” Ryan says, voice barely audible above the music. He glances downwards involuntarily, as though his gaze is drawn to Shane’s lips, only for a split second, so quickly that Shane convinces himself he’s seeing things.

“Good.” The slow song fizzles out and transitions into silence, as the lights flicker on, an abrupt and rude awakening. Must be closing time. When Shane looks around, they’re the only two still dancing. The rest of the bar is emptying, everyone heading off the dancefloor and towards the exit, apart from a few bodies littered at tables, looking a little worse for wear.

“You wanna split an Uber?” Ryan asks, already pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He pulls back just a little, just enough to be socially acceptable and straight away, Shane feels the cold on his shoulders where Ryan’s hands had been.

“Sure.” Shane says. He follows Ryan out of the bar, waiting for their ride to show up, even though Shane only lives twenty minutes walk away. Still, he’s grateful not to be making that journey on a weekend in the early hours of the morning.

Shane leans back against the wall, the cool bricks a welcome change to the warm air of Los Angeles. Now that he’s outside and in fresh air, he feels almost sober. Or he would, if it wasn’t for the slight swirling in his vision that makes the edges of the street look like they’re swaying.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan says, pausing when another group walks by. Four girls, too drunk and barely standing, hollering to one another as they stumble past. “For not calling, you know, I should’ve kept in touch.”

“It goes both ways. I should’ve called when you didn’t.” Shane admits with a shrug. What’s done is done, there’s no point dwelling on it now. And he finds that what hurt this morning doesn’t hurt anymore.

“We’re fucking idiots.” Ryan laughs and the sound is so contagious that Shane finds himself laughing along too, until they’re both standing in the street in the middle of the night, laughing even though nothing’s really funny.

“Agreed on that.” Shane says, once the laughter dies down. He looks at Ryan, at the man standing in front of him. He’s known him pretty much since he moved to LA, one of his first friends at Buzzfeed, one of the only constants in his life. The only person he could never get sick of, the only person who can always make him laugh, no matter what mood he’s in. 

The only person he’d go and sit in some abandoned building for, risking tetanus and boredom.

And he’d almost lost him.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Shane places a hand on Ryan’s cheek, gentle and tentative. He feels his breathing halt, just for a moment, as he searches Ryan’s face for a sign, anything close to a ‘no’.

But Ryan leans up and presses his lips against Shane’s and it’s the only sign Shane needs.

He feels Ryan’s hand rest on the side of his neck, pulling him down a little, pulling him closer. Shane’s fingers wind up into Ryan’s hair, as he tries not to think about the fact they could’ve been doing this for years now, they could’ve been doing this all along if he had the courage to open his mouth.

But none of it matters, not anymore. Because they made it here in the end. 

When his lungs start to burn, Shane pulls away, just far enough away to look at Ryan but close enough that he can feel Ryan’s breath as he exhales, fanning out across Shane’s face.

“Come on, big guy. Let’s get you home.” Ryan says, as the Uber pulls up onto the curb beside them. For the first time in years, he doesn’t feel like dead weight, he doesn’t feel like he’s sleepwalking. 

Looking at Ryan, the pair of them just smiling at each other like a bunch of idiots, Shane knows now why he still lived in LA, all these years. He knows now why he could never close that door, why every road felt like it was leading him back here, back to Watcher, back to this.

He gets it now.

**Author's Note:**

> i changed the ending of the song a little bit because I couldn't leave you with another angst ending hehe. I'm going to do an alternate ending, which follows the songs lyrics more closely and has a different ending. let me know if you'd like that.


End file.
